


Undertale: THE TRAINWRECK (the Movie(The Videogame))(gone wrong)(gone sexual?)

by Lex1n



Category: Team Fortress 2, Undertale, there's one mention of Kingdom Hearts but I am not making promises
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Swearing, it went about as well as expected, this was the result of half a dozen people in the same google doc simultaneously, tw: Seinfeld mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lex1n/pseuds/Lex1n
Summary: A bunch of friends got together into a single document and wrote at the same time. This was the result.The Scout from Team Fortress 2 falls into the Underground. Does hilarity ensue? Maybe.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Bruh Sound Effect #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author hivemind communes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the pre- and mid-writing fluff, separated from the text.  
> Ideally, I'd've separated every separate member's contributions as they were in the original document, where everyone had their own text color. (Un?)fortunately, that feature isn't present in here. And neither are different fonts, which were plan B. So you're gonna have to go the the original document if you wanna know who wrote what.  
> The chapters after this one have all the actual writing.

  
Void: Orange  
Bruh sound effect #2.  
Hey how do you make sure your text is always the right color, mine keeps changing to whatever color’s already there - CC  
Basically, you can’t. - Lexin  
let me have white text with a black highlight  
you know who i am <\- I really don’t  
D15c4rd yes <\- the dude from last line said that i see that  
I am doing all my text in red  
Should we each do a different   
how to rotate text in MS PaintAll hell breaking loose was kinda expected. Also fuck I can’t type. Destruction 100. Bottom text  
Gay  
We all keep accidentally stealing each others colors this is fantastic.  
Your Eternal Reward  
There are so many LINES to go through in this goddamn household. I have no idea who is who  
Hey guys whats up  
the scout will probably come back to flirt with toriel later if i’m honest  
He’s not into MILFs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The train begins to wreck.

“Ahhh fuck here comes flowey,” said Frisk

“this is gonna be the gayest thing i’ve ever seen,” said Sans.

Suddenly, Scout from Team Fortress 2 falls into the underground.  
Everyone swears. Nobody needs this shit on top of what was already brewing.  
“Fuck.” The Scout swears as well. He forgot his bucket of chicken on the surface.

He then looked at the weird skeleton dude like “Yooo, what? I thought Halloween was 2 months from now!”

“I thought Halloween was cancelled.” Flowey mentioned.

“Only because you ate all the candy,” said Frisk, but quietly, as though they were mute even though they were clearly not muted on Discord.

Scout squeals but quickly tries to disguise how scared he was by the flower suddenly talking. He does not do a good job.

“Oh, you’re new to the underground, huh? Oh Christ do I have to go through all this song and dance again…… Im not feeling it today.”

“uh yeah not to mention we’re standing right here, bud,” Sans added, probably aware of how the song and dance ended in murder attempts.

“Whaddya mean by that, spooky guy?” Scout inquired, trying (and still failing) to maintain his composure. Who ‘spooky guy’ referred to was unclear considering he found a flower scarier than a skeleton, but really who kept count.

“Oh.” Flowey glanced behind him. “Right, I forgot you two were here. Wait, what timeline is this. Frisk is here too. I’ve lost track. What the hell is happening. Frisk do you know this dude?”

“Flowey, don’t curse,” Frisk chided.

“Pfft, yeah, like ‘hell’ is a cuss. I’m from Boston, kid, the things I hear on the daily would give you a heart attack.” The Scout has already forgotten that everyone here saw him get jumpscared at a flower, and so attempts to keep up his toughguy façade.

Flowey’s face instantly lights up and he stares at Scout inquisitively. “Really? Like what?”

The Scout visibly hesitates.  
And then, audibly. “Uh...”

Somewhere in the background, Sans’s grin grows wider than usual and he gives Scout a thumbs-up to continue. Frisk makes a very clear “DO NOT” sign.

“Yeah, alright, how about we just drop the subject for a mo. There’s a kid in here, right? I can tell ya all about it later.” Scout gives a half-hearted attempt at a confident grin.

“If you think Frisk is pure, you are VERY wrong. Don’t even try to defend yourself kid, I heard what you said when you slid off the bridge in Snowdin. Frisk can AND WILL say fuck.” Flowey jabbed a vine towards Frisk with a grin.

“That was.. that was justified,” Frisk said.

“everyone says fuck,” Sans shrugged. “it’s not even a cuss. I for one support everyone saying fuck as often as possible.”

“Huh.” Scout pondered to himself for a moment. His game didn’t have any voicelines with swears. But that’s beside the point. “Well, either way, I don’t think you all would even then weather through half the stuff I heard at school, much less in the streets. Really.” He coughs awkwardly. Even _he_ is noticing this ain’t gonna stick.

Thankfully, Sans tries to get off the topic for him, but unfortunately he does so in the worst manner possible. “well, maybe not in the streets, but how ‘bout in the sheets?” he winks.  
The Scout suddenly blushes. Flashbacks of the bread incident fly before his eyes.

“SERIOUSLY, SANS? Christ, I suddenly don’t want to exist in the same room as you, my god don’t flirt with the humans.” Flowey whines as though this exact thing has happened in the past. It probably has.

Frisk turns towards Sans, with a completely blank expression. “Please, no..”

“what?” Sans asks with a shrug. “we were already talking about the word ‘fuck’, this seemed like a good segue.”  
“THIS IS THOUSANDS OF TIMES WORSE!”

“If you keep speaking i'm going to kill someone and force a reset, don’t test me.” He snarled, his petals flipping back as though he was an extremely angry kitten.

The heated argument coupled with the uncomfortable memories prompt the Scout to quietly reach inside his backpack for a can of _Bonk! Atomic Punch™_ energy drink, to “calm down” (go figure). Sans raises a non-existent eyebrow at the sight and gestures for the drink in what is probably an attempt to ask what it was but that also kinda comes off as asking for a swig. Scout hesitates for a moment, but his facial expression flashes “eh, I’ve got about a dozen of these” and reaches for a second can to throw to the skeleton.

Flowey takes the opportunity to snake a vine over and snatch a can, studying it closely. “‘Atomic…. Punch.’ Wow. That sure is a name. How much sugar is in a can? Like 40 grams? Thats probably not healthy.”   
Meanwhile, Frisk catches the drink meant for Sans in an impressive rugby tackle of a jump.

“Hey, watch it, chucklehead! I’m no vending machine!” Scout backs off from the flower, defensively clutching his backpack and instinctively reaching for his baseball bat. “And for your information, that’s all very necessary for my job!”

“Did you just call him a ‘chucklehead’? What?” Frisk is genuinely curious.

“Is chucklehead some kind of… weird human swear?” Flowey asked as he struggled to pop the tab on the can he had stolen.

“I have **never** heard that before, Flowey.”

Sans, trying and failing to contain his laughter, wants to reply but only manages a wheezing half-sentence about how serious a swear it was. Or maybe the lack of air is from that rugby tackle Frisk did.

The Scout is seriously considering taking a hearty swig of the energy drink before losing his temper and doing something he’d regret. He’d seen what Merasmus could do, and he doesn’t want to risk angering whoever’s responsible for _this_ odd bunch. “Uh, alright, let me clear some things up. I’m a real, uh, modest guy, yeah? But I see what you’re all tryin’ to do. And before you continue, I’ll have ya know I’ve been second best of my team in major league, alright? I’m battin’ a **thousand.** ” He takes his trusty steel bat out of his backpack. “I don’t want any beef. I just fell down here, lost my bucket of chicken, and wanna get back at some point. I’d hate to have one of ya say goodbye to ya kneecaps.” His toughguy façade has broken, but fortunately, a very angry teenager’s face is underneath, which fits very nicely in place.

“I don’t have knee caps,” Flowey chimes.”Also- do all humans really have to fall down here armed? It never really seems to help them in the end. Seems kinda pointless. Guess I can't really blame them though. What with the kill or be killed and soul stealing and all that.”

The Scout is mildly amused at the flower’s second statement. It doesn’t even know what else he has in his backpack. But it also has a great point. _How **do** you kneecap a plant?_

“N-no.. no..” Frisk steps back for a second and breathes deeply. “No kneecap busting, please. If you wanna get out of here, you’ll have to take the long way out. That’s just how it’s been, we’re not trying to keep you here..”

“technically, uh, how it’s been doesn’t really include me being here,” says Sans, eternally unbothered by the child’s panic or Flowey’s half-rant questions. “but I have really easily breakable kneecaps so I’m not gonna argue about this one, let’s get this guy outta here.”

The lanky mercenary is pleasantly surprised at how well his outburst of frustration turned out, all things considered. He rests the baseball bat on his shoulders, triumphant. “Well, I’ll just need a li’l pointer, and I’ll be seein’ my base in minutes, then. You can keep the can, wiseguy” - he directs at Sans - “and you too, weed.”

Sans opts not to mention that his can was stolen by Frisk, so he just gives a thumbs-up instead. This also serves as a pointer for the nearest exit. “that-a-way it is.”

“Alright, thanks, Rattles. Have a good one.” He sends a little salute to the skeleton as he walks through the entrance to the Ruins. He grabs the can he was gonna drink from and takes a sip.

Flowey dies right then and there from a heart attack. (He got the heart from ebay.com(Or maybe from the strange drink he got from Scout, I don't know i’m not a doctor))It's truly tragic and he will be missed but not really. So sad. IT IS SO SAD. I AM CRYING. (Who let Mettaton write)

“It’s probably not a good time, but.. what job are you talking about?” Frisk’s panic has given way to curiosity again.

The Scout slows down his walking a little bit, halfway through to the first door. “Real dangerous stuff, kid. Merc work’s tough. Not as tough as it was in downtown Boston, though, I can tell ya.” His lack of tact leads him to once again try to look like a tough guy to the crowd at the bottom of the cliff. He takes another sip of the dangerously questionable energy drink.

Frisk whispers to themself. “Hmm.. mercenary work that involves soda and a baseball bat..”

“Uh,” the Scout is almost at a standstill at this point. “See, at my line of work they call me the Sc-”  
Frisk grins brightly as they solve the riddle. “You’re BATMAN! With bat-brand soda like at the stores!” Clearly nobody has allowed this child to watch enough cartoons.

Scout stops walking, completely in disbelief, the only movement in his body being his hand shaking from the onset effects of Bonk consumption. “You- uh,” he turns to Sans. “You’re sayin’ **this** kid swore?”

“yeah it was the last thing they said before you ‘dropped’ in,” Sans replies casually.

“Fuck yeah I always wanted to try out bat-brand soda!” Frisk supplies as they pull out their pilfered can and down it all in one go.

 **Uh-oh.** The Scout knows from experience that the only thing worse than a teenager downing a can of Bonk! Atomic Punch™ is a pre-teen doing it. He quickly turns around, as if only casually leaving, and downs half a dozen gulps of the drink, preparing to absolutely **_leg it_.**   
“uh,” says Sans, but gets no further before Frisk explodes in a burst of rainbow light, as though they had eaten a Super Mario star. Or five. Yeah, probably five.

“Why didn’t that happen to me?!” Flowey complains in the background, evidently not linking his own drink to his inexplicable revival. Too bad. He wanted rainbows too.

Somehow, this amount of energy resurrects Chara. They’re here now, blinking confusedly at everyone. “Where the hell am I? I am not supposed to be here.” The Fallen Child is, however, not going to complain about not being buried under the spot a couple of meters away. Life is a great opportunity for power, after all.

Toriel chooses that moment to walk in, stopping and gasping in utter shock as Sans’s attempt to take Frisk for a walk has resurrected her dead child, and turned her existing child into a living rainbow disco ball, and also created a third extremely tall and gangly child that is probably related somehow.  
“Sans, what the fuck?” she asks. Sans shrugs and winks as though he just said a great pun and is turning to an unseen audience while the ba-dum-tss plays.

The Scout hurriedly walks around the towering bossmonster, barely hiding the panic he’s going through. “‘Scuse me, ma’am.” As soon as he’s on the other side of her, he bolts towards the nearest dozen exits.

“This is an extremely cursed timeline.” Chara idly comments, watching as Scout runs at mach speed. “How much you wanna bet he’s gonna die to the spike traps? I don’t have any money because I was just reborn…. Resurrected? But im putting down a 20.”  
An unseen and unheard narrator, only perceptible to the reader (and Chara), is heard saying “The Scout, unfortunately, dodged the spike traps.”  
“Oh god damn it, my 20.” Everyone in the surroundings is slightly confused.

“Extremely cursed,” Flowey agrees, settling next to Chara with a sage nod. “None of this should be allowed by the physics of reality. And I didn’t even accept your bet yet.”

“I feel like I should go back to being dead, really. This must be a bad time.” Chara slowly begins following Scout’s path.

“Not worth it, you just go up for sale on eBay. Trust me, I was just there.”

“What the hell is an eBay?” Chara asks, looking genuinely concerned.

“You.. shouldn’t know what eBay is. How did you figure that out.” Chara looked back at Flowey.

“Sans told me,” Flowey answers innocently, which has the effect of incriminating everyone except Sans.

Meanwhile, Toriel is trying to stop Frisk from illuminating the entire Underground. She would cover the child with a thick blanket, but as she didn’t have the forethought to bring any, she has settled for burying them in a very big pile of red leaves. It is not working, but the result is kind of impressive anyway.

A thump is heard from a familiar direction, along with drunken slurring. “Eeeurh, I… Gangly li’l… hooooh…” The Demoman is here. Oh fuck.

“Oh, is that another child?” asks Toriel, ready to adopt anything even vaguely human-shaped.

“Who ya callin’ a child, woman? All… due respects…” the one-eyed man slowly constructs the sentence, aimed at the flower instead of Toriel, funnily enough.

Chara turns around, looking the new fallen…. human(?) up and down with a sigh. “Is there like a conga line up there or something?”

“Ah, me bottle o’ scrumpy.” The Demoman picks up a jarringly unbroken bottle of suspicious-looking alcohol from the floor nearby. Frisk, popping their rainbow head out of the leaf pile, looks concerningly interested in drinking it.

Chara makes sure to stop to pick up anything they can find off the ground that seems good enough to be thrown at the Demoman. A rock, preferably. One that’s not sapient would be best but they’re not picky about that part.

“Aeuuuh, have ya lads seen a… lad… have ye, ‘bout this size,” he vaguely gestures his hand in some unknowable fashion, “rather… thin. Real trouble...some, too. *burp*, ah, bless me.”

“He went deeper,” Chara said, in an uncomfortably vague way.  
“if you know what we mean,” the until-now quiet Sans follows up with a non-existent double eyebrow wiggle.  
“I hate all of you.” Flowey groans from the background, stuffing his face into a nearby pile of leaves in an attempt to block out all shenanigans.

“Cheers, mate!” The Demoman makes a bottle-clinking motion towards the fallen child, even though he’s several meters away from them.

He then turns his head towards the hole where he fell from. “Conga line’s this way, lads!!!!” he yells with a booming voice that almost shakes the room. “Woooo!” He dances towards Scout’s alleged whereabouts. His grenade launcher misfires at one point, but it’s fortunately a dud.

Chara has picked up one rock by now, but has opted to pick up an extra one to throw at Sans.

Suddenly, the Halo theme begins to reverberate throughout the entire room. It causes the room to violently shake, removing centuries of (hopefully non-monster) dust from the walls. Frisk’s third eye has opened from the Bonk.

“Conga line?” Toriel asks in concern. “Are there going to be more humans- and what is that sound?”

The sound was a very burly man screaming.

Instead of a weak thump, this next human lands with a thud. After impressively landing on his feet, he warily raises his minigun. “Where is little baby man? We are supposed to be at base!” He exclaims with a heavy Russian accent. Toriel begins to consider putting in a mattress or safety net of some kind to catch the rest of the falling humans.  
Chara stares behind themself to find that **Heavy** has landed into the underground as well. They decide to abandon the mission of following Scout, and picks up as many rocks as they can instead.

“Look out!” Another voice follows right after. A man in a labcoat narrowly misses Heavy. “Falling from cliffs is a great health risk, Heavy! You need to take ze necessary precautions.” Medic dusts off his coat, ignoring the fact he himself didn’t take such precautions.

Flowey stares blankly from his pile of leaves, highly considering sneak attacking Frisk to force them to reset this whole mess. But, due to the recently awakened third eye, Frisk is now invincible and they are forever cursed to remain in this timeline until they decide to manually reset. This is awful. Truly the worst day of his life. Chara, meanwhile, is undeterred and immediately starts chucking rocks. The drunk one comes first.

“This is the best reset of my life,” Frisk whispers, confirming that a manual reset is not happening. Flowey lets out a quiet, flowery ‘fuck’.

The Demoman barely avoids a rock square to the noggin from his haphazard conga dancing, and is already at the entrance to the Ruins.

“Demoman! Where is Scout?!” Heavy demands.  
“And who are zese people?” Medic implores.  
They both get drunken vague noises as a response.

At least, until Toriel decides to try and clear everything up. “Greetings,” she says to Demoman. “I am Toriel, and this place is the Ruins. It is a dangerous place, full of pitfalls and traps, so I must ask you not to stray too far.”  
“Heugh, thanks miss, but I… I’ve al- *burp* already gotten my headin’! And-” he stumbles, recovers his footing, and forgets he was talking at all.

Somehow satisfied with this response, Toriel turns to Heavy. “Greetings. I am Toriel, and this place is the Ruins. It is a dangerous place, full of pitfalls and traps, so I must ask you not to stray too far.”

Then Medic. “Greetings. I am Toriel, and this place is the Ruins. It is a (...)” Yep, apparently she’s decided to do all the introductions separately.

“Oh god.” Flowey sighed. “She’s stuck in a dialog loop because there are too many of you.”

Demoman decides that his next course of action will be a sticky jump straight into a wall. He dies on impact. The Medic barely holds back a panic attack, and furiously fiddles with several settings on his Medigun battery pack. He scrambles towards the almost comically spread-eagled man and reassembles his vital organs with a well-aimed beam of his patented tech. “Vhat ze **fuck?!** Why vould you _do zat?!”_ He gets no response. The Demoman reaches for his bottle, now broken from the explosion. After seeing it’s empty, _then_ he decides to give the Medic some closure. “Aye, doc, thought it’d be faster.” He’s speaking slightly more sober.

The entire mess becomes too much for Chara to handle, and they begin to retreat to Toriel’s house. For presumably the same reasons, Sans is nowhere to be found. He probably went off to be with Scout. The bastard. A single sock is left on the floor. Toriel picks it up and hides it in her sleeve, blushing furiously, and makes a mental note to destroy Sans for raiding her sock drawer uninvited. Again. Is it really so hard to ask permission first?

The Heavy decides to not loiter, as always, and approaches Toriel, still holding his minigun of course. “Excuse me. Have you seen Scout? He is tiny baby man, with very quick legs. He is with team.”

“Ah, yes, I saw him rather briefly,” Toriel replies cordially. She points down the hall. “He may have turned my child into a disco ball, as he ran off into the distance as soon as I was distracted by that.”

“You are credit to team!” Heavy gives her a thumbs-up, somehow holding the massive firearm with only one hand for a brief moment. “Medic! Demoman! Go, go, go!” He hurries his two teammates towards the Ruins.

Flowey, at this point, burrows, traveling as far as he can away from the chaos. He is done. This is all a bad dream and he will wake up very confused in the morning, he’s sure. “This will not happen,” the narrator from earlier says. A distant scream is heard from under the earth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wreck continues to drag along the rails impressively far.

Full of frustration and more than a little dizziness from trying to keep up with so much nonsense, Flowey resurfaces, just in time for Scout to trip over him. Sans is also there, sitting at one of his stupid hot-dog stands, selling hot-dogs like he always does when on duty. Why is he doing this. Nobody even buys them.

“Augh!” The effects of Bonk! Atomic Punch™ had already worn out by then, so the Scout falls face-first into the floor. “What the hell?” He looks behind him to see the energy-drink-stealing plant from before ‘standing’ right there. “Weren’t ya planted in that other spot?”

“YOU what the hell!” Flowey yells right back, bristling as much as a very soft and round flower can bristle.

“So you  **are** the same one? How’d you get here?” The Scout is as disgruntled as he is confused.

“I walked,” Flowey says sarcastically. “With my legs. Little rooty legs. Definitely didn’t just pop out of the ground.”

“Real funny, chucklenuts. Next time watch where ya-” he misses a beat. Was that hotdog stand always there…?  Sans waves.

“Chucklenuts?” Flowey asks. “Wasn’t it ‘chucklehead’? I don’t even have nuts.” Sans makes a sound as though he snorted two gallons of water.

“I’m not talkin’ to Bonk thieves.” He straightens himself up, bounces his bat on his own shoulder a bit, but before continuing his path to the exit, he turns to the skeleton. “How much are the ‘dogs?”

“eight gil,” says Sans, who likes to pull the price for any given item out of a hat. Not literally, but he would love to do that if he did own a hat. Wait, was the currency in the Underground even gil? (It wasn’t.)

“Uh… uh-huh.” The Scout had forgotten he’s basically in a foreign land. He wonders if the exchange rates are enough for him to afford a hotdog with two dollars. He rummages in his backpack and produces a green rectangle. Right then, Sans chimes in.

“hey, can i have your hat?” Sans asks.

Scout pauses. Hats are  **precious.**

But, well… his scout cap is part of the uniform, right…? He could just fetch another from a resupply locker back at base. And he’s also pretty hungry.

“Y’know what, Bones? Deal.”

“cool,” says Sans and hands over a water hot dog with syrup on it. Not mustard or ketchup, but syrup and something of unknown origin that is hopefully meant to go on a hot dog.

The Scout already had his cap in hand, but the sight of the snack offered to him made him  _ really _ hesitate. He took a look at the half-emptied can of Bonk in his hand, and wondered if his stomach would be tricked for long enough.  
“well? take it. water you waiting for?”

“Why are you trying to pawn that thing off AGAIN?” Flowey asks, sounding genuinely offended. “Just give him a normal hot dog, nobody wants your stupid hot-syrup-dog.”

Scout is slightly alarmed that this is apparently not native cuisine and he’s just being joked on. But he still is very hungry. “Uh, so you  _ do _ serve regular hot-dogs, yeah?” 

“sure,“ Sans says, shoving the hot-syrup-dog in his pocket as he prepares a proper hot dog with ketchup and mustard. It’s still a water sausage, but it’s … closer. Enough to work as food.

The Scout takes a  _ good look _ at the newly-made hot-dog, and after reasoning to himself that bread and condiment is enough nutrition for a brisk jog, he takes his headset off and hands his cap to the skeleton, then putting the muffs back on his head. He hopes the resupply locker has spare caps.

“thanks for the hat,” sans says, already closer to his true goal of pulling prices out of literal hats. “hey, you have any paper?”

The Scout thinks for a moment. Maybe a notebook came with the backpack, and he never noticed. He rummaged around it for a while.

“No dice, rattly-guy. Have fun with the cap, though.” He makes a peace sign with his free hand as he bites into the water hotdog and continues walking forward.

“yeah, i don’t want dice. i want paper.”  
“Real funny. See ya.”

As Scout walks away, it slowly dawns on Flowey that he is now left alone with Sans.

Meanwhile, back at the other scene that does not revolve around Scout buying a hotdog of extremely dubious quality,  Chara quickly returns with a chair, held in both hands. They indiscriminately throw it at the nearest person. “LEAVE US ALONE-”  The chair misses, landing on the floor with a dull thud.  
“FUCK.”

“Don’t cuss,” Toriel chides and wiggles her finger at Chara, as though the attempted murder by chair is not anything to be concerned about. It has happened often enough that she’s used to it, but nevertheless.

Instead of heeding her warning, Chara’s instant response was just to say fuck again, but  _ louder _ .

“ **FUCK!** ”

“Zey would be such good candidates for a psychology study…” The Medic wistfully whispers to himself. Heavy hears it, and retorts with “focus on finding team!” in not nearly as subtle a tone.

“Can I help you with finding team?” the incredibly radiant and rainbow-flavored Frisk asks, sidling in between Heavy and Medic as though they were part of this team all along. “I am good at finding team.”  
The Medic yelps, and the Heavy instinctively turns his gun towards Frisk. After going back to his normal stance, he ponders for a while and slowly responds with a stoic “Yes.” Medic and even Demoman look on in disbelief.

“Aye, lad, y’know that’s some kinda… lad. Right?” The Demoman, even “sober”, still can’t quite figure out words.

“Da. But if Scout can be in team, the other baby can too. We need all help we can to capture point.”

“I’m not sure if ve need- ah. Fair enough.” Medic recovers his composure. This child’s state  _ is  _ strikingly similar to an Übercharge… this could be interesting.

“I think his name’s Scout,” says Frisk, hands clasped behind their back. “Let’s hurry before Toriel notices and makes me wear a helmet. I hate helmets.”

“Let us begin.” The Heavy was already getting a bit impatient that his mission was having so many setbacks, and hustles towards the Scout’s last known location, with the rest of the team following behind.  Frisk of course comes with, walking between Heavy and Medic, and at the end of the conga line Sans decides to tag along as well. He does not tell anyone about this, nor about the fact he just sold a hot dog to their target, but he figures they’ll get to that part when it’s relevant. He is also wearing a stylish hat that no one seems to notice.  It hurts, a little bit, even though the reason may be that nobody knows he’s there yet.

“So, have you… vhat exactly  _ is _ going on viss you?” The Medic shyly inquires of the child.

“I drank some kid’s bat-soda and now I can’t stop glowing,” Frisk answers blithely.  Medic is slightly confused as to the answer, but it seems honest enough. Bat-soda, huh…

The REAL Chara materialises from nowhere as a ghost--or immaterialises, since really there’s nothing tangible to grasp. When they look at the  _ other _ Chara, they tell them that they’re fake and they should go home and sleep off their hangover.

Of course, keeping up their tradition of being petty and vulgar, the fake Chara replies with a big “ **No YOU** ” and a vulgar gesture that gets them instantly grounded by Toriel.  
The fake Chara responds by trying to throw a chair at Toriel. It misses , as though mocking them . With indignant rage, Chara stares at the chair. Judging it.

The real Chara has nothing more to say to the fake other than, “Get good, nerd. The  _ real _ deal would not have missed.”

Toriel looks between the two children awkwardly, hands clasped together, before speaking: “You are both real to me, my children. I am certain that Frisk will accept --”  
She stops, turning to look for her disco-ball child. “... Where is Frisk?”

“Oh, why they’re over there of course,” says the real deal, gesturing to nothing in particular.  A spot most notable for not containing Frisk.

The band of mercenaries, child, and skeleton are already far into their trek. Or, at least, in relation to Toriel’s house.

As they walk past the corridor to Snowdin, the Medic walks while keeping count of something. Demoman is stumbling slightly, but not nearly as drunk as before, with his broken bottle still in hand. Heavy is focused and walking forward at a constant pace, with Frisk following along loyally. Sans is there, too.

Suddenly, Medic’s voice is no longer heard absentmindedly counting, and instead is directed at asking a question to the child. “Are you feeling any…  _ itches _ around ze eyes? Back pain? Snapped tendons?”

“I don’t think I have eyes,” says Frisk. “The rest seems fine though.”

Medic is slightly bewildered at something about what Frisk said - and yet, his reaction was much too delayed to have been the  _ first part _ .

“Oi, I can relate to that! Cheers!” says Demoman, not noticing Frisk had not mentioned any singular eye. 

“In fact, I think my arthritis is completely gone,” Frisk goes on to say despite never having arthritis in the first place.  
Medic is reduced to a deeply pensive state. He wishes he had his clipboard with him. And maybe a surgery table, too, but that’s not  _ strictly necessary _ .

“yeah, they seem way more fine than me,” says Sans. “i don’t even have skin anymore. that drink’s the real deal.” The Medic almost trips over himself.

“ _ SO _ , what the  _ Hell _ is the deal with these random blokes over there?” Asks Chara, in an uncomfortably Seinfeldian tone.  It is unclear whether it’s the fake or real Chara, or when they joined the party. Or who they’re asking.  Or to whom they’re referring to.  There’s a long pause, where canned laughter would go if such a thing existed.  In Snowdin, Flowey does hear a crowd laughing, exactly once.

“so, what’s the deal with these random blokes over here?” asks Sans, in a now explicit reference to Seinfeld, and thumbs toward … the entire parade, really.

The Demoman laughs an unhealthily disproportionate amount to how funny the joke really was.  Flowey, still in Snowdin, inexplicably starts regretting every single decision he’s ever made in his life.

“You know, the grown men with their fancy guns roaming about. There’s also this medicine woman with a hose? I think he missed the memo.”

“Did you call me a  _ voman?” _ Medic snaps out of his contemplation and straightens his glasses.

“Sorry, nurse. I mistook you for an actual threat,” said  Chara the real deal with a shit eating grin.

“Heavy, may I break ze Hippocratic Oath?” This question was, of course, going to be answered with a ‘yes,’ he thought. Heh, more like ‘hippocratic suggestion’. After a-  
“Nyet.” Heavy is still hurrying towards the door to Snowdin. Medic is awestruck at the prospect of  _ not  _ getting to stab someone.

“huh, you’d think the purpose of a hypocritic oath would be to break it,” said Sans, hands in his pockets.

“Look, nurse. As much as you, a sadistic, crazy, psychopathic, unlicensed physician would love to stab and put awful things inside me, you cannot. As you can see I am already very much dead. Sorry to disappoint.” After a brief pause, the Medic does notice the child is slightly translucent. And also floating.

“Und just who are you calling a  _ physician _ !?” The medic asks, extremely offended.

“Sorry, I should not have given you that much credit. You know, a person like you becoming an actual doctor? Inconceivable. I believe you would amount to an assistant at most, the one who does the paperwork.”  
Medic chuckles. He wasn’t expecting banter from a child, but welcomes it all the same. “Indeed, kamerad! No amount of official recognition vill truly depict my skill in medicine. Truly vunderbar of you to notice. In case you don’t know,  **zis,** ” he raises his Medigun up into the air as he walks, “vas built by me. I could even try to heal you from your predicament, but I have more important things to discuss.” He finishes the sentence by gesturing towards the ascended Frisk.

“Ah, such as perhaps removing the white dove from your friend’s chest over there? Or perhaps when you’ll next nonconsensually implant a baboon uterus in the big man’s abdominal cavity over there.”

“you’re real knowledgeable about this guy, huh,” says Sans. “you been spying on ‘im? kinda rude, not haunting your own loved ones instead.”   
The mercenaries all slightly jump at the mention of the word “spy.” They all equally hope nobody noticed.

“Ah, yes, as interesting a prospect that would be, I am afraid that I have been dead far too long. There is a human concept called ‘being incredibly bored’. Surely you know about that,” Chara finishes with a notion towards Frisk.

Frisk smiles widely, having been nestled between two of the flinchers. Yelling as loudly as they can (which isn’t very loud, as their voice is very mute-sounding even though they’re clearly not mute), they bellow out: “Spy!”

The Heavy instinctively turns around, Minigun pointed straight forward, narrowly missing Frisk in its swing. As he turns around, he ferociously bellows **“Spy!”** in response and looks to his sides. The other two mercenaries also dart their eyes to their sides, weapons in hand. After a stretch of awkward silence (bar the minigun’s barrel spinning), Heavy shouts “Where is spy?!”

Chara quickly disappears from the scene to immaterialise behind Heavy, this time wearing a crudely made paper mask of Scout. “Right behind you.”  
Heavy desperately turns back around, and delivers a hearty portion of lead directly into the paper mask, which is shredded right off of Chara’s smugly grinning face.

“wow, gotta remember not to do teleport pranks on that guy,” Sans notes idly.

After processing what happened, Heavy angrily says “You! Tiny baby ghost! You are  **not** funny!”

Chara, barely able to contain their laughter, “N-no! You’re right, I am  _ hilarious _ ,” they ended with perhaps too much excitement in their laughter. Quickly maintaining their composure, “Props to you anyways, almost got me.” They winked.  Heavy is nonplussed at the overt taunt, and mumbles “Move,” making a sideways motion with his minigun.

“Hey, by the way,” Frisk says, raising their hand as though they’re in a classroom and not … whatever mess this is. “Weren’t you not a ghost before? What happened, did you die?”   
Chara gave a playful smile to Heavy, “Sure.” They disappeared, reappearing by Frisk’s side , which was ultimately pointless since Frisk was just a few centimeters behind Heavy anyway , and also they’re a ghost. The group resumes their walking  as Sans picks the shredded pieces of paper up .

“Was that not obvious, Frisk,” asked Chara with a good natured mocking.

“Well how did you die?” Frisk asked, pouting. “It’s been like, five minutes.”

“Oh it’s quite simple. I killed myself!” They said perhaps too nonchalantly.

“ _ WHY?  _ Come on, I JUST birthed you and then you go die. That’s rude.”  
The Demoman is visibly struggling to comprehend the conversation at this point. He looks confusedly at his broken bottle of scrumpy.

“Oh, them? I told you they were a fake.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Also, come on, Frisk. You  _ birthed _ me? That was a visual metaphor I did not need. Thanks for that.”

Frisk’s cheeks puffed up. “Well, you come up with a better word for it then. And if you’re not them, then where’s my baby?”

The Heavy chimes in. “I have word for you. Word is ‘silence.’ Stop talking, baby ghost. And shiny baby, focus on mission.”

“that is a good word,” Sans agrees, undermining his own case. Probably on purpose.

Chara continued, clearly in disregard for the big man with his oversized gun, “Well there are a few. Created, revived, resurrected, just to name some.”

“You just said it wasn’t you, so they can’t be revived or resurrected, unless you’re saying I revived the body and just put a new person in there.” Frisk paused for a moment. “... Is the other you a  _ Nobody?!”  _ Oh god, Kingdom Hearts is  real. And it’s mixed into this crossover now.

“I was merely entertaining the idea just to prove you wrong~” Chara continued, “as for the ‘other me’, you did create them. Except they are not actually me, just someone who looks alike.”

Frisk was no longer listening. “Oh my god, I’ve created a Nobody,” they whispered to themselves in awe. “Does that mean I’m Xemnas?”

“No, it means you are ‘gifted’.”

“I’m Kingdom Hearts,” Frisk gasped. “This is incredible! It explains  _ so much _ . … And so little …” Just like Kingdom Hearts did, so really that was more proof.

Heavy was getting increasingly annoyed at the two ‘babies’, but took solace in that they were at least moving on at a constant pace.

As if a really bad metaphor, the party’s proximity to Snowdin was increasing just as steadily as their conversation’s distance from sanity.  Wherever he was, Flowey’s dread was increasing at the same rate.  The Medic is wondering if this was another of Merasmus’ shenanigans, that he somehow kept secret instead of excitedly shoving all the mercenaries into. The Demoman is wondering if they sell alcohol nearby.

As the group finally reaches Snowdin, Sans is sitting there at his usual hot-dog stand, ready with hot dogs and condiments and that same terrible hot-syrup-dog ready to be pawned off on whoever didn’t outright reject it. It had some lint now.  Demoman triple-takes at the skeleton manning the hot-dog stand, then looks at his broken bottle again. “Oi, lads… I…”  
“Yes, Demoman,” Medic answers preemptively, “ze skeleton  _ vas _ viss us.”

Chara quickly skips ahead to the hotdog stand, probably to make an awful pun, “My, Sans, I would  _ relish _ a hotdog right about now.” Yep.

“great to hear,” Sans replies casually and hands Chara the hot-syrup-dog. It’s unclear if this is a punishment or not, but he does seem to approve of the joke, so maybe this is how he shows affection. (Probably not.) “hope you guys are quick enough to ketch-up to that guy.”

Even if the treat is awful, Chara sticks to the act, allowing the hotdog to be handed off to them. It slips right through their hands, splattering onto the ground into a mess.

“can’t mustard the strength to hold it, huh?” Sans asks, grinning. “don’t worry, it’s on the house. well, no, it’s on the ground.”

Heavy keeps on trucking, despite the apparent teleportation. He does not want his mission to be a failure, and he needs Scout to help. Demoman ponders if he should pick up the twice-ruined hotdog.

Chara can’t think of anything to write. Wait, what?  They mean t say. Damnit, thwarted again by Sans’s incredible skill at bad puns.  
Frisk is deep in thought, only their sandwiched state between Medic and Heavy preventing them from falling behind as they think over their recent revelation. Most of the thinking, however, is geared toward Nobody Chara. That kid’s gonna need a new name, one with an ‘X’ in it. Chaxar? Rachax? They can’t decide.

Medic takes advantage of this stretch of silence and resumes questioning the coked-up child. “Do you feel numbness in ze legs? Any of zem?”

“Raxcha … mm, how do you even pronounce that… huh?” Frisk snaps their head up, blinking at Medic for a few moments. “... No? No, all four seem fine.”  The Medic gives up on trying to diagnose anything from the kid.

“You should consult Asgore on the matter, I could ask him for you.”

“No way, he’d just name them Charax. This is my responsibility!”

“ _ Please? _ I honestly just want the opportunity to cause him to panic. It would be too good!”

Frisk considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, that sounds pretty great. But I wanna see it too! Take a camera or something, a ghost camera. Ask Napstablook. And don’t go tell Chara-Nobody about the name, just tell Asgore we need a name that’s an anagram of Chara but with an X added to it.”

With perhaps too wide a grin, Chara agreed, and so they were off to  steal borrow a ghost-camera from Napstablook. They teleported to the throne room--no good, perhaps he’s making tea? PERFECT.   
So they sneak up behind him, while he’s taking a sip of his tea, not forgetting to hit the record button.  **_“HEY ASGORE!”_ **

It gets an incredible, though unfortunate, reaction as Asgore  _ jumps _ . The goat slams back onto his chair and shatters it, somehow managing to swallow his entire tea cup and knocking himself out cold. Or dying, but the lack of dust is a point against that.

As visceral a reaction it was, Chara could muster the only appropriate reaction to Asgore choking to not-death, which is to say, “Oh, fuck.”   
Chara would really like to poke him with a stick, but alas such a thing would be impossible. “Wake up? I have a question for you.”

From the verge of unconsciousness, Asgore manages to hear an eerily familiar voice, saying an even more familiar swear. He wonders if this “Oh, fuck” could really belong to them…?

But then, he actually faints.


	4. A Triple Cliffhanger, For Some Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if there already weren't enough things going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no real guarantee this will ever continue, though.

In the entrance to the underground, a man in a suit seemingly materializes from thin air. He checks his  bootleg rolex  watch. In a suave French accent, he says to no one in particular, “Well. Back to work.” He elegantly walks after the rest of the mercenaries, making sure to stay near the shadows.

In Toriel’s house, Chara-The-Nobody pouts. They wanted to follow their ghost self off to hassle Frisk and all the mercenaries, but unfortunately they are not incorporeal and they are still grounded. So, they settle for just being grumpy.

Nobody knows where Scout is. You thought we’d just tell you? We narrators don’t know either. You’ll just have to find out next time.  When  **is** “next time”? We narrators don’t know either. You’ll just have to find out next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [bonus interaction from the end of the document]
> 
> (Honestly this is such a good cliffhanger to end on for now, especially with the little “meanwhile” bits below) (also lol at the fact Scout does not have a meanwhile, nobody knows where that dude is)  
> (Agreed and seconded.) (Waterfall is big, man, and there’s not that many people in there.)  
> (It’s just a prank, bro. Stop dying, drama queen--king.) (Drama quing.) (Nice.) (Die.) (Kill me yourself, coward.) (But it would be easier if you did it yourself.) (Good point. I’m feeling lazy, though.)

**Author's Note:**

> Note that, as the summary highlights, this was just improv by the part of everyone involved.  
> Everything was copypasted here verbatim, with no corrections, and only a few formatting changes. I didn't even write the title.  
> I'd be sorry, but you clicked willingly.  
>   
> If you want to know exactly who wrote what, you can read the original document.  
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PIbElpLJYCXWfVxxMvPMC2DyxXi3SwNLOy5li3v0c6A/edit?usp=sharing


End file.
